


The Down Low

by paperdollkisses



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:22:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperdollkisses/pseuds/paperdollkisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ways own a jazz club and Frank plays there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Down Low

**Author's Note:**

> One Shot Only.

The red and black door was like a beacon in the otherwise nondescript strip of buildings along the dingy street. Tall thin strips of glass masquerading as windows flanked either side of them like some modern art piece on a brick gallery wall. The only indication of what business was inside was the low wail of a saxophone when he opened the door. Gerard ran a careless hand through his hair shifting it from its flattened state from the motorcycle helmet dangling from the fingers gripping the laptop pressed against his side. 

A crooked smirk accompanied the sharp nod of his head as he saw his brother sketch him a wave before returning his attention to the planner in front of him and speaking into the phone again. He took the steps to the lower floor two at a time, fingers trailing along the twisted iron of the railing gaze taking in the general disarray of the interior in process on the newest up and coming jazz club.

“Gerard, dude. We really need to step up the interview process for the band, there is no one able to play the bongos or…”

Gerard looked at the man in front of him, “Kevin, Ray is doing auditions. He seems to have found a decent sax player. Trust in the Ray, Kev, trust in the Ray. Besides, he can do a pretty good round on the bongos himself.” His attention was caught by the large sign that suddenly dangled over the upstairs railing above the stairs. “Holy fuck, be careful with that it’s one of a kind.” Long strides carrying him over to the bottom step bongos forgotten.

He watched with a critical eye as the wooden sculpture was secured on two huge black hook and eye hangers. The letters purposefully weathered to fit with the rustic look of the club. He climbed back up the steps to see how it looked from the front door, pleased with how it fit with his mental image.

“Nice.” A shoulder bumped his.

He shoulder bumped back as he looked over “It’s really coming together Mikes.”

“I’ve got Hugh’s coming in to finish all the floors out. He wanted me to make sure you just wanted them scuffed and buffed and not shined.” The eyebrow raise showed Gerard that his brother was irritated.

“You know he just does that because he’s jealous as hell of us.” Not even bothering to reiterate his vision for the hundredth time even though he knew Mikey wouldn’t care. “He wishes he’d had the idea.”

Mikey nodded, distracted by the noise over by the stage. “I think Ray is gonna have a little excitement.”

Gerard had also looked over at the clatter. His distraction was caused more by the giggle that had followed the crash of cymbals to the floor than what he probably would have said was a blatant disregard for other people’s property. The boy?, man?, hell, how old was he anyway?-- was holding on to a gleaming saxophone and a standup bass that was as tall he was and grinning slightly maniacally at Ray. Ray, who was laughing, not concerned at all about the goings on around him.  The hip check from his brother was unexpected in light of the whole distraction thing and he was about to tell Mikey not to knock him down the damn stairs when Ray caught sight of them. He smiled even wider and said something to the guy beside him and helped him carefully put down his instruments before coming over to them.

“Gee, hey, the nameplate looks awesome.” Ray spent a minute admiring it. “It’s kind of creepy how well your designs translate into reality sometimes.” He shook his head. “This is Frank Iero. I’ve officially found our new sax and bass guy. Frank, this is Gerard and Mikey Way. They are the brilliant brothers behind this joint.”

Frank nodded, sticking out his hand in turn. “Hi, this place is going to be amazing. I love the look and the acoustics… man…” he looked around. “Putting the band in the upper pit is genius. It’s the ultimate surround sound.”

Gerard smiled wide, his cheeks feeling a little warm.

“Well, meet the genius.” Mikey pointed to his brother. “Came up with the idea, the design, the furnishings, the art, the menu…”

“And meet the mastermind.” Gerard interrupted, his cheeks were hotter after the continued praise “Mikey can get anything done at any time day or night. It’s a very helpful skill for those 2am creative inspiration moments.”  
  
“Except the 2am’s where I’m rudely awakened from a steamy dream or… not awakened because I am creating a steamy dream.” Mikey grinned when Ray honked out a laugh and Gerard put his hands over his ears.

“Oh my GOD, that was ONCE.” Speaking way too loudly with his ears covered.

“… a week for the entire time I was in school. Gerard had a lot of desperate need for art supplies when I was in college.”

“Or coffee, Gerard always says that Mikey should be kept away from appliances but he actually caused his coffee maker to catch on fire while trying to figure out how to do drip patterns.”

Frank’s grin grew and Gerard moaned. “Ok, can we not tell all my stories to the new guy he might leave and never come back.”

Frank shook his head and bounced a little. “No way. It’s always good to get the dirt on your boss in case you need blackmail fodder for days off.” There was that giggle again.

The familiar strains of _Puttin’ on the Ritz_ sounded from Mikey’s phone and he pulled it out before giving them a wave and walked back towards his small desk with it to his ear.

“So, Vespa or Harley?” Frank nodded to the helmet Gerard still held.

“Um… Harley actually.” He shuffled a bit in place, flexing his fingers a little when he realized they were stiff. “Lame right?” his mouth quirked up a little.

Frank was shaking his head when it happened.  It was almost comical really. The movie timing perfection of the crash of a box of coffee mugs as they were being carried to the kitchen. Gerard, to his credit, merely flinched. It wasn’t his art after all.

“Whose head is going to be on the mantel of the Red Queen tonight boys?” he muttered, loud enough for the other two men to hear. He gave Ray and Frank a rueful look before turning to go down the stairs.

The days leading up to the grand opening were more of the same. Auditions for the remainder of the band, then practice kept the place well sounding. The floors were completed with fabulous, albeit sinus inflaming, perfection. Every surface, plate, glass, mug and appliance shone to within an inch of its life. City inspections passed with flying colors due to the meticulousness of Mikey Way and Gerard’s own personal daily checklist.  The entire club had one of a kind Gerard Way art strewn… well, artfully… around. The acoustics remained excellent throughout even as the furniture filled the rooms below causing a physical fullness that could have skewed things.

In Frank’s eyes it continued to be a comfortable place to hang out and enjoy some food and music. He’d been on the receiving end of more than a few of the fledgling dish debuts as Gerard and the sous chefs got used to the kitchen and new cookware. His favorites were the veggie potstickers and the small biscuits with a strawberry sauce and fresh blueberries. The sweet whipped topping was homemade by the chef himself. He watched the bartenders make up smooth bottle work to go with some of the music they were playing and he had even given one of his original CD’s to listen to in hopes that he’d be able to showcase some of his own work.

The soft opening was invite only, friends and family listening to music and eating food. Comfortable and mostly drama free except for the one memorable Spiderman 3 jazz club reenactment by one of Mikey’s actor friends, Pete. The ‘Gwen’ chosen had been the girlfriend of another friend. A very jealous friend. When the drama hit Mikey had quickly stepped in and performed the scene perfectly with Pete, leading to a discussion about how many times was too many to watch a movie about a whiny superhero. Frank and the rest of the band had played the actual song from the movie, admitting that they may have also spent a little too much time in the spider’s web but the whole night was enjoyed by all. The entire staff left that night, proud and satisfied and ready to take the next step.

Opening night was completely different from the soft opening. It was almost as if everything had waited until that night to start having glitches. The gas pipe on the brick oven had cracked and even though Mikey had worked his magic it still wasn’t working when the door opened for business.  They did however have a small army of toaster ovens plugged in and thankfully none of the other appliances ran on gas. The booze delivery was delayed until a mere hour and a half before opening and even the unflappable Gerard was afraid that they would have to postpone the opening and wasn’t THAT just dandy. With everyone pitching in once it finally got there, the bottles were shiny on and under the shelves. Somehow the coffee was able to calm the fevered pitch to a dull roar in everyone and once the alcohol was secured the smaller things that would naturally happen in a club were glossed over.

 

By the time the door was opened everyone looked splendid in their snazzy black and red attire. The band was warming up and the staff was in position. Mikey was at the door to welcome everyone, looking very dapper in his black shirt and tie with electric blue vest and down below the hostess was greeting and seating. The gas fireplaces weren’t lit but they had been filled to capacity with lit candles of different sizes and Gerard had wondered why he hadn’t thought of that before, mentally reminding himself to ask Mikey for a cost analysis on switching. He had disappeared back in the kitchen after peering through the glass slats at the line outside. The music starting up was his cue to push up the red sleeves of his shirt, wipe his hands on the apron around his waist and get started.

Mikey watched their guests carefully. Most of what he saw was a bunch of people enjoying themselves and there were very few notes on his planner by the end of the night. Anyone that he saw that was paying extra attention to the food he would send a message back to Gerard with one of the waiters. Food critics were always sneaky but Gerard could pick them out from a mile away.

 About halfway through the evening Pete and a few of his actor friends busted through the front door in costume of the police from yesteryear. He caused a ruckus at the front door using his smile as much as his plastic billibat to get past the group of women gathered there.

“Excuse me ladies. I have official police business to attend to at the moment, but if you will wait right here I’ll be back to show you how amazing I am with my cuffs.” Giving them a wink and causing them to giggle. He moved to the top of the stairs. “Well, well, well… what have we here? Don’t you know we’re in prohibition times folks?” advancing down the stairs with his ‘crew’.

The band had stopped playing at his announcement and at a nod from Ray had started with a low key jazz based theme from the Pink Panther. It had earned a small smirk from Mikey as he watched the scene unfold, smirk that widened a little when Pete stopped in front of him.

“Are you the owner of this club?” Pete tapped him on the shoulder with the plastic bat.

“Yes officer, I am.”

“You are aware that I’m going to have to bust you? Do you intend to come quietly or will you resist?” he grinned.  “I’m hoping you resist.”

Gerard came out of the kitchen and leaned against the door frame, eyebrows raised.

“I’m sure we can come to an agreement officer.” Mikey turned and walked towards the bar, Pete following as his crew roamed around the room.

“Trying to bribe me are you?” he turned to survey the room.

“I would never do that. Just thinking you’d like a bit of the Irish yourself.” He motioned to the bartender. “A hard working man of the law like yourself should be able to benefit from a business such as mine.”

Pete pretended to ponder the offer while tapping his bat on his hand before using it to push back his hat off his forehead. “Well, you might be right about that. Me and the boys are a bit thirsty.” He used his foot to pull a barstool towards him. “It would be a bit much to haul the whole lot of you in. The wagon just isn’t as big as it used to be.” His face was all teeth and eyes. “Pour me one and I’ll let you off this once.”

Once Pete and his friends had had their drink at the bar they disappeared into the night with warnings of further raids.

Exhaustion had replaced adrenaline by the time the last glass was dried and put up. The band and most of the staff had left hours ago. Ray, Mikey and Gerard the last ones standing—or sitting as the case was.

Raising his mug he looked at the Mikey looked at the other two. “Success.” He said quietly, understating the entire experience.

“Fucking A PLUS PLUS PLUS, bro!” Gerard grinned widely.

“We really need to keep him off eBay, Mikes.” Ray mentioned conversationally holding up his mug to clink against the others. “It’s ruining your conversation, dude.”

The brothers rolled their eyes in unison and Ray laughed. “Until tomorrow?” he asked.

“Tomorrow.” The word was echoed twice as he stood and grabbed his jacket and left.

Mikey looked at the glowing screen of his phone. “Pete wants to know what you thought about the ‘raid’? It might be a thing.”

“It was a pretty sweet idea.” Gerard pondered for a few minutes. “Tell him to work on it and we’ll try it out for a bit and see if the charm holds. He can work out timing with Ray.” He drummed his fingers lightly on the table, the mosaic and cement dulling any sound. “I think Ray may have been right about a singer too, maybe once a week to start. Friday’s?” he looked over and saw his brother nod, texting again. “Have you listened to Frank’s stuff?”

“Some of what he’s played here. Ray’s supposed to be sending me a zip with it. You?” fingers stilling for a moment.

“He gave me a copy of his CD yesterday but I haven’t had a chance to listen.” It was sitting on his nightstand at home. “Maybe tonight.”

“Maybe we should get out of here. Pete’s on board.” He said absently, stifling a yawn.

Gerard stood up and stretched. “Good idea.” He grinned at Mikey. “We really did it.”

The smile was mirrored on Mikey’s face. “We really did it.” He stood and hugged Gerard. “Now, let’s go home so we can do it again tomorrow.”

“Absolutely.” Gerard drew back and reached for his helmet and keys.

It was a week before he listened to Frank’s CD. The rest of the time spent jotting down notes that would improve the Club, making subtle changes to the menu, adding sketches for potential art projects. More often than not he was up way too late because he couldn’t get the club out of his mind. He was wandering around trying to keep from brewing a pot of coffee which would do nothing to help him sleep. Gerard’s eyes fell on the CD case still sitting on his nightstand and picked it up taking it over to his laptop and settling back on his leather couch to listen. Smiling as he heard Frank’s voice…

“Demo: Frank Iero , jazz collection.”

He fell asleep listening to the soothing sound of saxophone set to a slow beat.

Riding his bike to work had not been the best of idea’s if he’d been honest with himself. In his defense he had thought he was going to beat the rain. Instead the sky had opened up within about five minutes of him being outside. He was close to the club, but not close enough that he wasn’t soaked through by the time he pulled up behind the club. Gerard pushed in the door easily, grateful that it was unlocked and even more grateful that he had a dry uniform in the office. His jeans were sticking to his skin in that gross way that jeans had, chafing after just a few steps.

“Dammit.” He pulled off the helmet, his hair was mostly dry, the edges curling wet.

Frank looked up from where he was tuning his bass. “No alternate transportation?” eyes lingering on the wet denim currently clinging to Gerard’s ass.

“Yeah, I have a car.” He pulled his jacket off. “I just hate using it.” Grimacing as he pulled the soaked tee shirt away from his chest. “The bike is cooler.”

“It really is.” Frank nodded, still idly fingering the strings on the neck. He used his other hand to gesture Gerard up and down. “It’s a good look for you.” His eyes widened slightly. “The motorcycle man look, not the soaked kitten look.” Although he personally liked both he wasn’t going to mention it.

Gerard looked up with a scowl “I do not look like a soaked kitten.”

“Yeah, you kinda do Gee.”

He directed the glare at his brother. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

Mikey shook his head. “Nope, I’m the brother.” A small smile lifted one side of his mouth.

“Which is exactly my point.” Gerard shot him the bird anyway. “I’m going to go change.” He stalked to the office, not really pissy, just uncomfortable. It turned out that while he had dry clothes he did not have dry shoes and ended up padding around the club in socks while he tried to dry his shoes by the fire.

By the time Gerard had gotten his coffee fixed the way he liked it Frank had finished tuning and had moved on to warming up with the sax. His Poison tee shirt rucked up a little at the side showing a strip of skin as he moved.

“I listened to your CD last night. Well, some of it.” He amended.

Frank lowered the sax and grinned, he did a lot of that. “Yeah? So… what did you think?”

He slouched into one of the easy chairs by the door. “I liked it. It’s very representative of the genre.”

Frank raised an eyebrow before he burst out laughing. “Repr… ese…sentive… of…” before he was laughing so hard he had to sit down on his stool.

While that was a very pretty picture to look at Gerard scrunched up his nose and sipped his coffee, not joining in because he was clearly being laughed at. He knew his music ok? He’d just let that shit slip out. A long suffering sigh or two later and he was sure his stupid fascination with his sax player was over. That was before Frank opened his eyes and looked directly at Gerard with eyes that crinkled at the edges. Gerard was man enough to admit that it was not over and it was perhaps closer to a crush.

“Tell me how you _felt_ when you heard the music, Gee. Not that artsy fartsy BS that you read.”

Ok, so called on it then. Gerard settled back in the chair. “Play me something and I’ll tell you.”

Frank pondered for a minute and put his lips on the mouthpiece while Gerard closed his eyes. After the brief thought that the acoustics in this place really were awesome he lost himself in what Frank was playing. As the last note died he kept his eyes closed for a few moments longer, allowing his thoughts to roam. The song hadn’t been jazz based. It was low and haunting, causing chills and soothing them down afterward.

“Exactly.” Frank nodded.

Gerard hadn’t even been aware he was speaking out loud. He looked over at Frank. “Just like all good music is supposed to do. Make you feel something other than what you’re currently feeling.” Watching as Frank nodded again. “Was that one of yours?”

“Yeah, it’s part of something new I’m working on. Won’t fit in here though. It’s currently in the I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing stage.” He laughed self-consciously.

Gerard smiled again, listening to the dull roar of thunder outside the building. “What else do you do that doesn’t fit in?”

“I play guitar in a lot of different styles. On Mondays and Tuesday’s I jam with _Fallen Vatican Boys_ they’re a punk rock cover band. They’re pretty good at the copy and paste music but couldn’t put a song together themselves if they wanted.” Frank shrugged “It’s fun though and I get to give the other ladies in my collection a work out.”

“How many instruments do you have?”

“I’ve got Stark and Pansy.” He indicated the sax and bass in turn.

“Wait, Stark? As in Ironman, Tony Stark?” Gerard leaned forward laughter threatening to bubble out before he got the answer.

Frank’s expression was a little embarrassed and a little evil kid with a cookie jar. “Well, doesn’t everyone want to blow Ironman?”

Gerard’s choked shout of amusement echoed around the club. “Oh. My. God.” He snickered. “I would if I could at any opportunity and I will never get that image out of my brain now.”

“Which? The one of me playing a sax named Stark or the one of you blowing Ironman?”

Either, if he was honest with himself. “Either… or both?” or of Frank giving Tony Stark a blow job, his brain wasn’t picky.

“Exactly!” Frank giggled.

They grinned stupidly at each other for a minute before the chimes went off for the delivery door.

“All play and no work.” Mikey grumbled a little as he got halfway up the steps before seeing Gerard and Frank sitting in the chairs by the band pit.

“I was getting up.” Gerard pushed himself out of the chair.

“Well, finish getting up. It should be the market truck.” He waved over his head as he turned and went back down the stairs. “and will you PLEASE put on your shoes? No one needs to smell that.”

“Gripe, gripe, gripe.” Gerard was a little self-conscious after that comment though. “Social hour cut short by an embarrassing brother.”

 Frank stood “We all have to work sometime. Come on. Let’s see if we can get the stuff in without getting soaked.

The rain had slowed to barely a drizzle while they had talked despite the continued thunder. With the driver and the two of them loading the dumbwaiter and the kitchen staff unloading it into the kitchen it hadn’t taken long to unload the truck. Gerard once again thanked Mikey for thinking of having it installed when they’d put in the elevator. It was down to business after that. Despite the bad weather that kicked in after the final delivery the club was packed. Something about the rain made people not want to cook for themselves.

The sulfur scent of match lighting nicotine hit his nose as soon as he walked out the door. Gerard hadn’t had a cigarette in at least an hour and his hand went to his jacket pocket even as his other hand turned the key in the lock.

“Who the hell uses matches anymore man?” he looked over at Frank, watching as he shook it out and dropped it.

“It’s all I have at the moment. Schwartz stole my lighter.” He leaned his head against the wall watching the flare of Gerard’s lighter cause creepy shadows on his face.

Gerard nodded ignoring the goose bumps raised along his arms at Frank’s direct stare “You haven’t left yet.”

“Nah, thought I’d see if the hot co-owner of this jazz spot I work at wanted to take me for a ride.” Frank let the sentence die as he took a draw on his cigarette and tilted his head “On his bike.”

They had been playing at this for weeks. Innuendos, not so subtle looks, even less subtle body language.

“You want a ride?”

Frank threw his cigarette down, crushing it with the toe of his shoe. “Yeah, I do.”

He licked his lip, teeth catching on one corner for a brief moment before he turned to the bike. Gerard opened the storage seat and pulled out the spare helmet and handed it to Frank. One final drag on his smoke and it was joining Frank’s on the ground. When Frank slid up flush behind him on the bike his breath may have caught but then he was breathing normally again as the bike roared to life. He didn’t have to say ‘hold on tight’ but he did anyway, feeling the brush of Frank’s chin on his shoulder blade as he nodded.

Santa Monica traffic was light at 2 am. The pier had long since closed and the few bars along the PCH near 3rd street were more inland. Gerard turned off Santa Monica Blvd towards Malibu wanting open road and night in front of him. . It wasn’t the first time… or even the hundredth that he’d gotten turned on by the vibration of the bike, although this might be due more to the man behind him on it. His thighs itched where Frank’s hands lay on the denim covering them, the heat where he was pressed behind him could have been unbearable. Instead it was a reminder of what might be and a sharp contrast to the cool air whipping around them as the road passed. Gerard pulled into the empty parking lot of Duke’s because he was getting too distracted.  He shut off the motor, leaving the keys in the ignition.

“This is pretty cliché.” He pulled off his helmet, looking out over the wide expanse of dark water below.

Frank moved behind him, his own helmet off and on the ground before straddling the bike facing Gerard. “It wouldn’t be a cliché if it wasn’t a fucking hot thing to do.” He grinned and pulled Gerard in for a kiss.

The start of a thought that Frank always knew what to say and do fizzled out completely as his mouth was covered. Soft? No, not so much. Lips that knew how to do what their owner wanted. Yes and Yes. It started dirty and hard… teeth, tongue, spit and moans. There was nothing gentle about the feelings going through the two men, so why bother with it now, save it for another time. This was need. Deep, dark, pure, simple lust allowed to finally vent itself.  Gerard leaned in putting his arms under Frank’s thighs to pull his legs up. He needed to feel him.

“Damn tight jeans.” He muttered against Frank’s mouth.

Frank laughed “Yours or mine.” Then moaned when Gerard finally got him where he wanted him.

“Both.” He breathed. “Whose idea was this?”

“I don’t know but it was a fucking brilliant aside from the… oh fuck… making out on a motor… unh… wha?" Frank arched his back as Gerard breathed on his neck, teeth grazing a sensitive area.

Gerard licked a design there before biting the skin causing Frank to buck up with the feeling. His answering moan of pleasure earned him a repeat of that action. It wasn’t a comfortable position at all, but neither cared. When one of Frank’s moans got cut off by a muttered curse that had a twinge of pain laced through it Gerard stopped, cursing before pushing himself back on the motorcycle to stretch his legs before grabbing Frank’s shirt and pulling him up for another dirty kiss.

“Put your helmet back on and get behind me.” He reached for his helmet as Frank did what he told him. Wincing as his jeans strangled his hard on. "I've never been cock blocked by a motorcycle before." Frank’s words were like surround sound in his helmet. He shifted gears and hit the gas.

“My place is 5 minutes away.” He drew in a breath as Frank’s hand moved up his thigh. “You’re going to need to stop that unless you want to end up in the ocean.” Frank giggled and Gerard had to bite back a moan. “How is that even sexy?” he muttered.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

Five minutes seems like a lifetime when you have to do things like pee, smoke, get away from a grandmother… but when you’re dying to screw the hot dude sitting behind you on a roaring Harley… it’s possibly an eternity. Especially when that guy is grinding up against you every once in a while and the vibration of the bike on your crotch is making you want to scream. He turned off the main road and over the canal bridge. Two streets down and one right and he pulled up in front of a quadplex and turned the engine off.  Frank slid off the bike with ease. Gerard less so and he made a mental note to buy looser jeans if this was going to continue. For it to continue, though, it had to start. He jerked his helmet off and wrapped the hand around Frank’s wrist pulling him behind.

The door opened easily, none of the clumsiness that usually accompanied one handed key fumbling. Shut and locked just as easily as Gerard dropped his keys on the table by the door and was leading the way to his bedroom. Frank didn’t even have time for his vision to adjust to the darkness of the house, just followed along. He released Frank’s wrist then, putting his helmet down by the door and flicking the switch that lit a half dozen small paper lanterns hanging around the room before turning back to face him.

 

“So, where were we?” He moved closer eyebrow raised “Aside from outdoors on a motorcycle getting blue balls?”

Frank dropped his helmet and walked the few steps to Gerard reaching again to twist his fingers in the teeshirt and pull forward. “Well, I thought you were about to suck me off when you pushed away like that…”

“Later.” Gerard kissed him then, no less intense than before, tongue pushing into Frank’s mouth before he could fully open it and then moaning when Frank sucked on it.

Frank smiled and sucked a little harder his hands reaching to tangle in Gerard’s hair. Gerard really liked the whole grabbing thing that was going on. He did like to be manhandled a bit. He hissed as Frank jerked his head back to get his attention back and to give him room to kiss and bite his way down Gerard’s neck. He stopped for a minute and ran his tongue over a small scar before sucking on it and bringing color to the skin there. Oral fixation… Got it... God, yes. He backed them up to the bed, wanting to be horizontal and grinding. Falling back on it hadn’t been the best of plans. The weight of anyone on your cock was only good a in certain ways and awkward pain is what you got otherwise. Muffled curses and repositioning occupied a few minutes before pressure was applied in a pleasing fashion.

Gerard’s hands slid into the tight pockets of Frank’s pants and pulled him in to rub against him, both catching their breath at how good it felt.

“Jeans. Off. Now.” Frank panted next to Gerard’s ear and Gerard couldn’t have agreed more. He also could barely move as Frank sat up on him and started to undo the button and zipper. “A little more naked.” He huffed a bit when Gerard didn’t move. “That means a lot less jacket and shirt, asshole.”

To be honest he wasn’t sure whose shirt and jacket he meant so he went for Frank’s, grabbing at the bottom hem of both and pulling them off over his head. The tattoos were all over and Gerard almost stopped to look but Frank’s hands were back at the waistband of his jeans and he was pulling them down over his hips. The hand was hot and heavy as it cupped him through his boxers. Gerard forgot that he was taking his own shirt off at the feeling, his head tilted back into the mattress. His breath came out in a rush as Frank’s mouth slid over his abdomen another hot rush of adrenaline flooding through him in the wake of someone rubbing his crotch.

“Oh. God… I…” he pushed up into palm that lay over his hard cock. “Frank… you…” then there was bare skin wrapped around his hardness. Dry, hot and tight as it slid up and down, the puckered cloth of the waistband of his boxers rubbed against his base with each stroke. “Oh my fucking… you…” he lost his voice as Frank’s callused thumb traced along the crown dipping into the vee underneath causing Gerard to writhe. It was going to be so fucking embarrassing if he came this… “Frank… fuck.” He arched, the tip partially covered by rough fingers and throbbing as his orgasm hit him. Openmouthed and panting he lay there, fingers twisted in the blanket hips still moving, dick still sliding through the hand because it felt so damn good.

It took him a bit longer than usual to open his eyes and just remember to breath. What he saw made every fiber in him want to be hard again. Frank was hovering over him, skin damp with sweat, eyes dark with lust. Gerard couldn’t wait to touch him and his hands fell on Franks hips, the denim a sharp contrast to his hot skin. His fingers fumbled with the metal button and pulled down the zipper pushing at the material until he could slide his hands over Frank’s ass and squeeze. Frank’s mouth fell open on a moan and his cock twitched up. That was what Gerard wanted and he was going to have it. It didn’t take too much maneuvering to get Frank on his back and pull his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off. He spread his legs on his own and Gerard crawled up between them.

He looked for a long moment, close enough to feel the heat before he licked up the long length. Frank gasped when he did and his mouth opened so he could take a deep breath. He was louder when Gerard’s mouth closed around his tip, sucking and tasting the fluid gathered there. Sliding down was like torture to Frank, his hips pushing up as he tried to get Gerard to move faster, take him deeper, SOMETHING. When Gerard’s fingers dug into his hips to hold him down he laughed, the noise turning into a groan as Gerard took him as deep as he could before moving back to the tip and doing it again. Frank looked down, Gerard’s hair covered most of his face except for his cheeks hollowed out as he sucked and his lips wrapped around Frank. It really was torture, but the good kind, the way he could see his dick shining from spit and precome as Gerard moved. He tried to move again, forgetting about Gerard’s fingers until they dug into his skin again using his weight to hold him down with more determination. Frank was starting to get frantic in his need to move, his head and arms thrashing on the bed as Gerard moved faster. He bent up his legs, toes curling into the blankets as he tried to push up. Using this to his advantage Gerard pushed him farther up the bed so he could get a better position.

Able to kneel easier now Gerard let up his hold on Franks hips, instead using his hands to slide his legs to rest over his shoulders before moving to cup his balls massaging gently and his thumb stroked the sensitive area behind them. Frank gasped when he applied that pressure, hips thrusting up, hands burying themselves in Gerard’s hair and pushing down. Gerard let him set the pace, fucking his mouth. 

“Yes, fuck Gee… right the fuck there… keep… yes..” Frank did start moving with intent then, resisting the urge to twist his hip and just pushed up into that warm mouth, pulling back a little when he felt himself push in too far and felt Gerard swallow. “Your fucking mouth… jesus.” He lost  for a second and then when Gerard brushed his finger against him again and sucked harder he lost his rhythm before coming. His shout turned into a moan as he felt Gerard swallow him down, tongue stroking lightly up and down his shaft as he came. “Fuck… yeah. Yeah.” He ran a hand over Gerard’s head. “fuck…” he breathed.

Gerard swallowed again, licking his lips before smiling and moving up in the bed watching Frank catch his breath. He was gorgeous like that. If Gerard was a romantic he’d say he was glowing, since he prided himself on being all things and had a dirty mind he settled on the thought that Frank looked good all fucked out and spread across his bed. It was that thought that was on his mind when Frank opened one eye to look at him, smug smile firmly in place.  
  
“That needs to happen a lot more.” Gerard’s voice was wrecked. He loved it when it sounded like that. Frank did too if his smile widening was any indication.

He nodded, closing his eyes again. “I’m in.” he patted his hand up Gerard’s chest to his cheek and patted it.

Gerard took the hand and sucked on a finger. “I’m in first.”

“Bossy.”

“You knew this.” Gerard moved, turning on his side and reached to pull the blankets down.

Frank frowned at all the movement not ready to move yet. “I like it.”

“Stay.” Gerard got up and hit the lights.

Frank was up under the covers before he got back to the bed. Gerard grinned and climbed in beside him.

 


End file.
